


The Gift

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Asexual Twelve, F/M, Fluff, Immortality, Kissing, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor and Clara land on Aikoria, neither of them are expecting the gift that is thrust upon Clara without warning. Faced with sudden, unexpected immortality, she is forced to face uncomfortable truths, and both of them realise that this trip could make or break their relationship. </p><p>The Doctor is obligated to decide whether to follow his head or his hearts, and Clara has to make a decision that could alter the course of her life forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is largely based on a premise that a friend and I developed last weekend, only that was about a million times more complicated and situated in a way more specific context. Boiled down to it, here is some cute Whouffaldi fluffiness ft. banter. Enjoy!

The Aikori did not, in truth, understand what they had done to so ire their guest, or his companion. The angry Scottish man, garbed in burgundy velvet, was positively spitting with rage, while his tiny accomplice simply stared at them in mute wonder as she considered their words and the heavy implications. 

She looked from the High Priest to her friend nervously, before holding up a hand and squinting at it curiously, flexing her fingers experimentally. 

“Doctor?” she asked apprehensively, but he barely acknowledged her, so intent was he on his irate scowling. She sighed and tried again, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. “ _Doctor_?” 

He jumped from his reverie and looked down at her, the frown dissipating from his face as he looked her up and down protectively, assessing the invisible damage that was undoubtedly occurring internally. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed a little, blinking rapidly as he tried to change his thoughts from anger to concern, tried not to let his temper fray. “What?” he asked, his tone distracted as he frowned a little. “Do you feel weird? Has it kicked in yet?” 

“She will not know if the gift is working within her,” the High Priest interrupted helpfully, and the disdainful look that the Doctor cast towards him could have scorched earth. “It will simply… work.”

“You say _gift_ ,” the Doctor said coldly, the anger filling his eyes once more as he raised his gaze from Clara’s face. “I would say _curse._ ” 

Clara sighed impatiently, his anger boring her, so she turned her gaze to her feet and tried to run over what had happened when they’d landed on Aikoria hours before.

_“So… here it is!” the Doctor announced proudly, his excitement childlike as he held the TARDIS doors open with a flourish, and she had raised her eyebrows fractionally._

_“You sure this time?” she quipped, dancing down the stairs from the upper level towards him. “Definitely Aikoria?”_

_“Definitely Aikoria,” the Doctor assured her confidently, gesturing impatiently, and she descended the steps to the door with an incredulous look that he knew all too well._

_“Not Aik **omia**?” she asked teasingly, and he scowled in a way that she knew was entirely playful and bore her no malice._

_“Clara, just go and **look**.” He commanded, and she laughed as she stepped outside into the warm air of the planet, casting her gaze to the sky as she searched for signs of the lunar eclipse she had been promised. She flipped her sunglasses up and rested them in her hair as she took in the crimson sky, panning across the horizon and letting out a slow, impressed whistle. The planet was gorgeous, with endless forest of trees with canopies of deepest purple stretching for as far as the eye could see, punctuated with lakes of crystalline water, and… _

_She jumped back half a metre when she noticed them, landing on the Doctor’s foot as she did so, and he swore under his breath. “Language,” she chastised automatically, before adding quietly: “are they the locals?”_

_Stood around them in a loose semi-circle, half hidden in the dappled light of the forest, were a dozen roughly humanoid creatures with skin of dark emerald, their eyes glinting blackly in the subdued light, long silvery hair twisting around their shoulders as they considered the travellers. One wore a necklace embedded with a jewel of such brilliance that it burned her retinas to look at it, and from experience and the way that the others regarded him, she knew he was the leader._

_“It would appear so,” the Doctor said softly. “Nice stating the obvious…”_

_She scowled a little before rearranging her features into a smile that she hoped was vaguely non-threatening, praying that this species would prove **not**_ _to be of the “taking them captive and torturing them” variety._

_“Greetings, visitors,” the jewel-wearing being stepped forwards, dipping his head low in a respectful manner before surveying them with a curious expression. “I am the High Priest of the Aikori people. As their leader, we invite you to partake of our hospitality.”_

_“Well…” the Doctor began uncertainly, trying to weigh up the situation and all possible dangers before settling on a course of action. “That would be excellent, ta. Right, Clara?”_

_“Really good, yeah,” she said brightly, fixing her face into a more confident smile. If the Doctor trusted them, she did.  “Hospitality is always good.”_

_The leader smiled and turned away from them, padding into the forest silently, flanked by his peers, and Clara and the Doctor followed them with a sense of apprehension._

_“What if it’s boiled worms again?” Clara asked under her breath, and the Doctor bit back a groan._

_“Then let me do the talking,” he assured her confidently, and she gave him a look. “What?”_

_“The last time you did the talking, we ended up tied to a wall. For a week.” She reminded him furiously, and he raised his eyebrows in vexation._

_“You interrupted! It wasn’t my f-”_

_“You were **rude**.”_

_The Doctor’s retort was lost as they broke through the thick undergrowth and emerged in a clearing, looking around in wonder at the complex wooden structures that surrounded them. Built in a slowly undulating curve that matched the arc of the trees, the organic-looking structures were daubed with a myriad of colours in paintings that depicted scenes of great glory and triumph, and Clara and the Doctor could only stare around them in wordless amazement._

_“Visitors, welcome to our village,” the leader said by way of welcome, noting their fascination with a look of amusement. “Come, sit and eat with us.”_

_He led them to the centre of the clearing, where there lay a great, stone table set with rough-hewn granite goblets and plates covered in rich fruits and sumptuous joints of meat, and the leader smiled and raised a glass to them warmly, indicating that they should do the same._

_Clara reached for her glass instinctively, hoping the drink wouldn’t prove to be toxic, her hand closing on it even as the Doctor shouted a warning, but it was too late. She recoiled sharply, her palm bleeding, as she noticed for the first time the roughly cut gems that embedded the surface, wondering how the Aikori could drink comfortably when their tableware was so lethal._

_“Clara!” the Doctor chastised, already fumbling in his pockets for a handkerchief, and the leader of the Aikori spoke up in puzzlement as he considered Clara’s injury with something akin to guilt in his eyes._

_“Your friend bleeds?” he asked, and Clara raised her eyebrows in mild annoyance as the Doctor wrapped a spotted cloth around her hand._

_“Yeah, I had I noticed…” she quipped, wincing slightly as he did so. “It hurts, what’s with the sharp stuff?”_

_“The Aikori do not feel pain, nor do we injure. We reproduce only once a lifetime, but our bodies do not age, and thus we may live for many moons, passing on our wisdom to the new generation so that they may join our ranks forevermore. As our guest, we would wish to offer this gift to you.”_

_“Which part?” Clara began nervously, feeling a slight sense of unease. “The wisdom, or the-”_

_But the leader had already stepped forwards without waiting for her consent, his hands reached out and when they met her temples, Clara felt a sense of warmth flood through her, radiating from her head to toes in a deliciously wholesome way. When he stepped back, she looked down, still basking in the afterglow of the initial touch, to find that her hand was unblemished, smooth and pink and perfect, and she raised her eyebrows in appreciation._

_“Nice,” she murmured. “Cool.”_

_“No, Clara.” The Doctor spat. “Not cool. Very very not cool.”_

Looking down, Clara ran her eyes over her hand again. Realisation was, slowly, dawning on her as she began to comprehend that she was unable to die, unable to be killed. She supposed she should feel worried or uncertain about the prospect of immortality, but she felt nothing but calm, almost excited, at the thought that she would never have to age, never have to injure, and that she would be able to join the Doctor in his travels forever as his equal. A small part of her tried to urge her to consider the ramifications of this, but she tried not to entertain the thought that she would have to watch those she loved wither and die. She took a deep, fortifying breath and clasped her hands together to try and stop them from trembling, watching the Doctor’s reaction with trepidation.

“How dare you?” the Doctor asked quietly, his tone low and dangerous as he considered the Aikori leader. “How _dare_ you act without her consent, without my permission?” 

“Your _permission_?” she interrupted furiously. “You don’t own me, Doctor, you don’t have any right to claim authority over _my_ body. I didn’t consent to this, but I’m not opposed to it either. Don’t you dare speak for me, or so help me I will slap you into your next regeneration, and that’s a _promise._ ”

“Clara,” he sighed in exasperation. “You don’t understand what they’ve just done, you don’t understand the implications…” 

“Don’t you dare, Doctor.” She said angrily. “Don’t you dare try to talk to me like I’m just another human, just another foolish little human that doesn’t understand the ways of the universe. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve seen what you’ve seen-”

“You have _no_ idea, Clara. You _are_ foolish, compared to me, you _are_ little, so _young…_ ” the Doctor all but shouted. “And that’s why-” 

“Don’t.” she snarled, the desire to slap him threatening to overwhelm her as she clenched her fists. “Just don’t.” 

She turned on her heel and strode back to the TARDIS, slamming the doors behind her and sinking into a chair. How could he have said that to her, how could he truly see her as just another human? She had hoped that by now he would trust her, that he would see that she was so much more than that. For him she had tried to be more, had dared to be more, becoming the Impossible Girl for him… so how could he not see the positives that this gift offered to them both? The fact she would never have to leave his side, the fact that he would never have to be alone again… surely that should outweigh his desire to protect her fragile humanity. She had died for him so many times before and it had broken him a thousand times over, but now… now she could, perhaps, finally tell him the truth, without having to worry about how her words would hurt him when the time came for them to part, as that moment could now so easily be avoided…

 

~/~/~/~

 

The Doctor, meanwhile, was still scowling at the leader of the Aikori as he paced agitatedly, trying to contain his rage. 

“You were interrupted in your speech, but we understand your meaning.” The leader’s words were soft, but they were enough to still his movements and bring him to a halt beside the mysterious High Priest.

“What do you mean, _my meaning?_ ” he said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Forgive us. We understand your intentions. You love her.” 

The Doctor was, for once, rendered speechless, spluttering uselessly in response to the leader’s words. His face turned slowly red, and he cast his eyes down, giving up on his efforts to speak. _Was it really that obvious?_ He pondered, his heart soaring. _If so, had she noticed? What if she had? What if she… no._ He forced himself to think realistically. _She could never love me. Bow-Tie, maybe, but never me. Never in this body. You’re deluded, Doctor. Love is not for you, and especially not with Clara._  

“We understood it from the moment of your arrival. And thus we conferred our gift upon her.”

“But she’s not… we can’t… humans shouldn’t…” the Doctor tried feebly to protest, his concern for Clara’s humanity fading from his thoughts as he realised the potentially catastrophic effects of being stuck, for eternity, with someone he was embarrassingly, one-sidedly, enamoured with. “You can’t just mess with biology! You can’t just rewrite her DNA! Change her back, _now._ ” 

“But… you love her, do you not?” 

“It doesn’t matter a single _jot_ what I feel for her. Change her _back_ or so help me, I will make your life a living hell.” His tone was menacing, but the indigenous people only regarded his fury with pity.

“Love is powerful, Doctor. Come. Let us show you.” The Aikori leader placed his palm against the Doctor’s cheek, and the Doctor felt the familiar intrusive presence of an unknown mind probing into his own, opening his thoughts and allowing it in despite himself. 

_There was Clara, in bed beside him, her eyes full of love and sleep as she looked up at him, her hair tousled as she curled up under the duvet and gave him with a playful look. Clara, making him coffee in the TARDIS kitchen and sitting beside him with it as he tinkered happily, her arm wrapping around his waist as she pressed her lips to his shoulder, the familiarity of her presence offering him a sense of contentment. Clara in a white dress, her hair woven with TARDIS blue flowers as she exchanged rings with him in a ceremony that felt achingly familiar, their friends’ eyes on them both as they recited their vows on a beautiful planet he barely recognised. Clara, a newborn in her arms as she smiled at him exhaustedly but proudly, the tiny baby reaching for him and opening its eyes to reveal deep hazel orbs that mirrored her own. Clara, nude, beneath him, kissing the line of his jaw and murmuring softly: “I love you”…_

He broke away from the Aikori with a snarl, trying to drown out the images that filled his mind, tried to suppress the possibilities that his eyes had been opened to once again. He had spent so long in this body suppressing the thoughts that he had been confronted with, trying to deny his feelings, trying to pretend that Clara was nothing more than a friend to him, but now... Oh _gods,_ how he wanted that domestic life again, how he _ached_ for what he had been shown, but Clara was defined by her humanity, in the same way he was defined by his sense of being other, and she couldn’t remain this way, that much he knew. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t moral, and he knew that she would never be able to come to terms with the terrible consequences of her immortality, knew that the emotional toll of everyone she loved dying would be too much for her fragile human brain. He felt anger boil up in him at the prospect of Clara’s hypothetical future agony, and suddenly his temper burst forth as his emotions fought for dominance, managing only to express the one thing he was entirely sure of. 

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be!” he roared, his face contorting in fury. “She’s… she’s human!”

“But it’s what you want,” the Aikori said softly. “We know it.” 

“That doesn’t _matter_!” he spat, determined to make them disregard his love for Clara, determined to show himself to be so callous that he was unworthy of the so-called “gift” they had given him by rendering Clara immortal. Perhaps then they would return her humanity to her, and he could return to his denial, and things could proceed in the way they always had. “I wanted that with many of them! Ace, Rose, Sarah-Jane, Tegan, Grace, Peri! It doesn’t bloody _matter_ what I want!” 

“Doctor…?” Clara’s voice was soft behind him, but he still jumped with shock, turning to take in her expression, watching as her heart visibly broke at the realisation that she was not the first, and she was likely not to be the last. His bluntness broke her at last, her face crumpling in pain as she understood with sudden clarity. 

“I thought…” she mumbled, watching as his face was overcome with a sheepish look. “I really thought…” 

Fury overcame her suddenly as she realised the sheer futility of the whole thing. She had loved him since that first moment, since he had knocked on her door with youthful exuberance, she had sacrificed everything for him, and now… now all her hopes were shattered and her heart was falling apart, and he could only gape at her in ignorant silence, this man who had built her up and then broken her apart so completely. She had made him the centre of her world, but she was a mayfly to him, a flash in the pan, something that would be forgotten in a moment. 

“Take it back,” she commanded the Aikori imperiously, her voice cold and hard. “Then _you_ …” she scowled at the Doctor, her eyes icy. “You bloody well take me home, then get back in your _bloody_ box and leave – me – alone – forever.” 

“Is it that easy?” he wondered aloud, his tone confused as he focused on her words with difficulty. “That’s all it took to make you leave?” He didn’t mean to sound so cold, he didn’t mean to sound so blasé about the entire thing, but his shock was the only thing he could focus on as he considered the times on Trenzalore he had sent her away, the times he had been trying to protect her with his actions, when all he could have used could have been words.  He had never considered that language could be so cutting, so effective, but he understood suddenly as he considered not only her words, but the impact that his repetition of them seemed to have on her. 

“You _bastard_ ,” she hissed with malice. “You complete and utter _bastard._ ”

He realised that she had misunderstood, realised that his panicked response had invoked her rage, and he tried desperately to make amends with her, trying to undo the damage he had unintentionally done, stumbling over his words clumsily, suddenly overly aware of his choices of phrase.

“Not with this face,” he began haltingly. “I never loved you with this face. Not in that way. Bow-Tie, sure!” Her face softened marginally, against her better judgement. “But the new regeneration cycle did something to me…” he sighed sadly. “I’m not capable of _that_ in this face.” 

Her expression hardened once more, and she turned to the Aikori again, drawing herself up to her full height. “Take it _back_.” She commanded, with a look that could have killed. “ _Now.”_

The leader reached forward and placed a fingertip against her forehead, and she felt ice flood through her veins abruptly. She trembled once and then stepped away, throwing a furious glare at the Doctor as she turned on her heel. 

“Home.” She said brusquely, not even casting a glance in the direction of the alien civilisation. “Now. Take me home.” 

“I…” 

“ _Now._ ” She repeated, and strode back to the TARDIS without waiting for a response. She sensed him step into the console room behind her and turned to face him, lashing out and landing a weak punch on his chest before he caught her wrists in his hands tightly, holding her as she tried to twist free. 

“Clara.” He said firmly, shaking her gently. “ _Listen to me for five seconds.”_

“Why should I?” she asked cattily. “I thought I was special… I see now I’m wrong.” 

“Clara, _I love you!_ ” the words burst from him unchecked, and she froze, feeling her heart leap a little before her brain attempted to intervene. 

“But…” she tried to be rational in response to his honesty, trying not to allow herself to be caught up in sentimentality immediately. “You said… not in this face.” 

“No, not in this face, at least not in that way.” He sighed uncomfortably. “Not in the way that the Aikori meant, with… you know.” He turned beet red. “Sex, or anything.” 

“Oh. But you… thought… about sex with the others?” 

“You make me sound like a madman in a box,” he tried to joke. “A sex-mad maniac in a box.” 

“Did you, or not?” she asked again, and he blushed despite himself. 

“Maybe,” he said unwillingly. “With some of them.” 

“Did you _have_ sex with any of them?” she probed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“I… no!” She raised her eyebrows fractionally at his response. “I _didn’t_!” 

“So… why not with me?” 

“You look offended,” he noted with confusion. “Why?”

“Well, am I not… attractive… to you?” she bit down on her lip, and he realised abruptly that she felt this matter was something to do with her, something that she was in some way responsible for, and immediately sought to reassure her.

“No! Nothing like that! Just… before… I’ve been younger… and things were different. Brain things. Sex brain things. You’re… very attractive. Beautiful, even.” He assured her, and she smiled a little then, looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

“So…?”

“Clara, what we have… what we are, is so much more than just anything sexual. I think. For me, anyway. I mean, do you really want sex with this?” he gestured to his body, and Clara gave him a look he recognised dimly from his previous incarnation as her flirtatious one. 

“You’re not so bad,” she teased gently, resting one hand on his chest and feeling his hearts thrum under her palm. “I mean… silver fox, much?” 

Taking advantage of his momentary speechlessness, she stood on tiptoes, grabbed his lapels and pulled him down to kiss her, his mouth feeling somehow alien and yet achingly familiar as he put one hand on her waist, before pulling away uncertainly. The stars that had burst behind her vision cleared slowly, and she wondered whether he had felt the same way, the same supernovae crackling in that big old brain of his. 

“Clara…” he said breathlessly, blinking in confusion at her. “What…” 

“God, for a Time Lord you can be remarkably stupid,” she chastised, but not unkindly. “I _love you_ , I thought I’d made that abundantly clear some time ago.” 

“You… you…” 

“Love you. Yes.”

“Oh,” he said, his knees buckling slightly, and he leant against the console for support. “But what about… what about…?”

“Sex?” she asked frankly, enjoying his embarrassed reaction, the blush creeping over his cheeks. “I can do without.”

“But…” 

“It never really did it for me, anyway.”

“Me, or sex?” he asked, determined to clarify her meaning before he responded, determined not to put a foot wrong in this delicate dance of words.

“Sex,” she assured him kindly, patting his cheek. “The kissing is nice though. Can we build you up to it, like we did with the hugging?”

“There’s not any building up to do,” he mumbled. “Kissing’s nice.”

“Well then, Space Man.” She grinned at him mischievously, then her expression clouded over as she remembered that she had rejected her gift, rejected her immortality, and that she was doomed to be nothing more than a mayfly. “Are you sure you’re OK with the whole… my humanity… thing?”

“Clara…” he looked down in embarrassment. “It seems the Aikori are believers in love, and they’re tricksy about it.”

“What…” she began, looking up at him as she felt hope stir within her.

“The TARDIS has been scanning you… and it would seem that they _did_ retract their gift… but only partially.”

“Partially?” her tone was hopeful as she looked up at him with those wide hazel eyes, and he smiled down at her reassuringly, taking her hand in his own and pressing his lips to the back of it gently. 

“You’ll live longer,” he promised her. “I don’t know how _much_ longer, but longer.” 

“So I’ll be around to annoy you…”

“For quite a while to come, yes. If you’ll have me.”

“I thought I made myself clear,” she chided, raising her eyebrows slightly. “I _love_ you.”

“Even with no sex?”

She sighed in gentle frustration, placing a hand on his cheek as she met his gaze. “Even with no sex.”

“Promise?”

“ _Doctor._ ”

“Cos I love you too, but you gotta be s-” 

She kissed him again in lieu of a response, and when they broke apart he was smiling from ear to ear.

“So…” he began nervously, running his hand through his hair. “ _Not_ back to Earth?”

“Definitely not,” she concurred, typing in a set of coordinates. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, and she grinned at him, twirling around the console boldly.

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, and he pretended to ponder the question seriously, taking her hand in his and frowning in mock-concentration.

“Well…”

“Oh, shut it you.” she commanded fondly, disengaging the handbrake smugly and throwing them into the vortex confidently as he crossed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, scarcely able to believe that this was really happening, that she was really _here_ and really _his._

“Yes boss,” he murmured, and she grinned.

“I could get used to that…” she teased, and he fought to keep the goofy smile from his face.

“Good,” he said softly, resting his hands on her stomach. “Because I’ll be saying it for a good long while yet.”

“You better be…”

He grinned at her as she twisted lightly from his arms and danced to the door, throwing them open and taking in the star system outside.

 _My Clara,_ he thought to himself as he went to her and took her outstretched hand, marvelling for the thousandth time at her beauty, her kindness, her _warmth._

“I love you,” he said again, enjoying the sound of the words, the feel of them in his mouth, and her mouth turned up into half a smile as she surveyed him lovingly.

“I love you too, daft old man,” she said softly, tugging at his hand. “Now, can we love and explore at the same time?”

“For you?” he asked tenderly. “Always.”


End file.
